


Rainbow

by endofnight



Series: Gravity of Tempered Grace [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet, Coda, Gen, M/M, maybe less sad?, still sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofnight/pseuds/endofnight
Summary: It was the kind of weather that reminded Enjolras of new beginnings and second chances...and forgiveness.





	Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> (Almost) five years later, a brief little coda to finish Enjolras’s story.

“I wanted to tell you that Etienne proposed,” Enjolras said, settling in the warm grass on folded legs. “I said yes,” he added.

“You’d like him,” Enjolras continued. “He reminds me of you, a little. He’s kind of a pessimist.”

Enjolras frowned.

“Not that you’re a pessimist. I’d say you’re a realist. But he’s supportive and...I guess that’s what I appreciate. Even when you disagree, you’re supportive.”

Enjolras pulled out his well-worn notebook and pen, more out of habit than need, and settled in for a long afternoon. The weather was beautiful—just cool enough to need a jacket in the shade, bright green grass rippling in the early spring breeze. It was the kind of weather that reminded Enjolras of new beginnings and second chances...and forgiveness.

“I struggled for a long time. After I met Etienne, I mean. I feel like he came on a little strong, but I guess I always feel that way. I’ve never been good at flirting or well...courting. I can hear you laughing, so just shut up. But he was persistent. And patient. But any time I looked at him and felt, well, anything, I felt like I was betraying you.

“You’re the first man I ever loved, the first man I ever _really_ wanted and acknowledging that there was someone out there I could feel the same way...well, it’s not the same way, really, is it? You’re different men. You have your similarities—Jehan says I have a ‘type,’ whatever that means—but you’re more different than not. Anyway,” Enjolras huffed out a breath, “I’m rambling. Sorry. Jehan says I talk more now. Come to think of it, Jehan has a lot of opinions about me.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Enjolras interrupted himself, “acknowledging that there was someone out there that I could feel the same way about, or even close to how I felt about you, was hard. Dr. Lambert—that’s my therapist, I see a therapist now—says that it’s a normal part of the process but...I won’t lie, I broke up with him once. Do you remember? I spent a lot of time here after that.” Enjolras trailed off, breathing in the earth-rich scent of the breeze. He opened his eyes again with a smile.

“So really, you’re to blame. Talking to you is what made me realize I love him. That I could love him. I think you’d be ok with it, though. You’d get mad if all I did was wallow. Wallowing was for you, not me, you used to say. Remember? You never let me.” Enjolras let his smile fade.

“It’s still hard sometimes. A lot. I expect to hear your footsteps instead of his. I expect to hear your laugh, or your snide remark. One time—one time I thought it was you in bed next to me, and I remember my heart breaking when I realized it was him. I felt guilty, then, too. If I’m honest, I feel guilty a lot.

“But,” Enjolras let out a deep, shaky breath. “Everyone says…everyone says you’d be happy for me. And…I think so, too. I know that if our roles were reversed, I’d want you to be with someone who loved you.” Enjolras paused again.

“Sometimes I do wish they were reversed. Sometimes I do wish it had been me instead of you. I wish…but I guess that’s pointless. What’s done is done.

“I miss you, a lot. I always will. I’ve got a lifetime of what-ifs stored up, but…I hope you don’t mind if I share them with someone else.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. He stood and walked over to Grantaire’s headstone, the limestone warm in the gentle sun. “I will always love you. And I will always be grateful to you for teaching me how to love.” He gathered his things, read over the headstone one more time as was his habit. He’d made sure the headstone matched the obituary from years before. His lover’s name, dates with far too short of a dash between them, and: _He is loved._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you.


End file.
